


just know that I would die for you

by tevivinter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Canonical Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevivinter/pseuds/tevivinter
Summary: In which a renegade princess and an antivan crow become the most unlikely allies... and maybe more.A short fic to celebrate the 2020 Zevwarden week. Chapters are fairly chronological to show the development of their relationship.
Relationships: Aeducan/Zevran Arainai, Female Aeducan & Gorim Saelac, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Comments: 13
Kudos: 9
Collections: ZevWarden Week 2020





	1. Admiration

Embers crackled in the dead of the night. A faint smell of stew lingered in the air, a reminder of their dinner coming from the empty cooking pot. Darya sat by the fire, eyes focused on the task of sharpening her axe with a knife. She had been at it for quite a while, merely nodding in response as her companions retired for their tents one by one. It didn't take long before she and Zevran were left alone.

"So, these Crows of yours." Darya began, blades still grinding against one another with a metallic sound. "How long until they come after you?"

They haven't had the chance to talk much ever since Zevran joined the group. It had been only a few weeks after all, and he quickly noticed how busy she were. It was somehow endearing to watch Darya command the party – giving out orders and coming up with strategies seemed like a natural thing for her, like she was born to lead. Zevran turned his head to face her, elbow resting on his raised knee. "Hmm. I'm afraid I can't give you an answer to that, my dear warden. I honestly have no idea – though I'm sure a capable woman such as yourself should not worry."

Darya scoffed at his obvious flirting. "It would take much more than a couple assassins to worry me, elf. Still…" She paused to analyze her blade, silently checking out her progress. "That’s a fancy way of saying that they could appear at any moment," she continued.

Zevran suppressed a chuckle, though he couldn't stop the corner of his lips from twitching slightly. "Well, I imagine it will take some time for them to realize that I’m not dead. Maybe a few weeks? One month? One can never tell," he shrugged.

Darya raised one suspicious brow. "Now there’s an interesting development from someone who claimed not to know anything."

Zevran's smirk grew. He was too familiar with sarcasm. "Ah, but there is a difference between knowing and trying to make a guess, no?" He watched her reactions carefully as if threading through broken glass. Darya remained focused on her task despite his attempt to joke – he couldn't really blame her for being suspicious after all. Zevran crossed his legs then. "It’s the truth, though. I have no reasons to lie to you."

"Is that so?" Darya stared at him for a moment, the knife suddenly coming to a halt. He didn't seem to be lying, but then again, she knew better than to trust empty words. "I have been wondering, Zevran…"

Zevran's gaze followed her as she stood up, fingers loosely wrapped around the grip of her axe. Darya moved in closer until there were only a few inches keeping them apart. Then she raised her blade, using it to gently tilt his chin up.

"Let’s say you manage to earn my trust." She began, voice dropping to a lower tone so that no one else could hear them. "What would _possibly_ stop you from finishing the job then? An unexpected sense of honor, perhaps?"

The way she almost purred the words made Zevran swallow in anticipation, holding her stare as she did so. Somehow she managed to be attractive _and_ intimidating at the same time – and from the looks of it she was well aware of that. There was a tinge of heat in her amber eyes, the campfire casting an orange light over her features. Zevran couldn't help but notice the sharp lines of her jaw, how they were framed by soft waves of golden hair. She always wore her hair tied up, a low ponytail that rested on her left shoulder. She would probably look just as stunning with her hair down, if not more.

Zevran felt his voice drop as well, eyes never leaving hers. "Would it be too hard to believe that I just want to follow you?"

Another scoff, but this time there was a hint of amusement in her tone. "You seriously expect me to believe in that?"

Zevran smiled, not minding the axe dangerously close to his neck. The blade stood cold and sharp under his chin. "As shocking as that might sound, I am not one to turn against my benefactors." A brief pause, and Darya watched as his eyes roamed her face in quick inspection. "Especially not one as beautiful as yourself," he added.

A slight frown brought her brows together. She was not used to have people defying her like that – one would normally shrink in fear when facing her in such way. Darya was known to be intimidating, and yet Zevran didn't seem to be affected by any of that. He stared back at her, unflinching, with a smirk on his lips nonetheless.

Was he always cocky like that? If so, how did he manage to stay alive for such a long time? 

A brief moment of silence went by, tension making the air grow thick with anticipation. The camp seemed like a distant memory then, and every little noise seemed to vanish until the sound of their own breathing was the only one left. Darya didn't mind the small distance between them, instead taking the opportunity to properly _look_ at him. She followed the shape of his tattoo, noticing how the elegant curves contributed to highlight his cheekbones. A single strand of blond hair hanged above his other cheek, creating a fine contrast against tan skin. There was something… different about Zevran, something she couldn't quite place yet. At least he wasn't so bad looking after all.

Darya pulled the axe away from his throat. "If you’re hoping to make me swoon, _handsome_ , you might want to think of other ways to do that." She smirked, sarcasm dripping from her voice when she pronounced his new nickname. "Cheap flattery won’t work with me."

Zevran let out a low laugh, warmth dancing in his eyes. "Ah. It’s no flattery to simply state the truth, _bela_.”

The foreign word seemed strange to her ears, though it was clearly some kind of response to his nickname. She ignored it. "Yes, you seem to be doing a lot of that lately." Her gaze drifted down to Zevran's body before returning to his brown eyes. "How unfortunate for the Crows to lose such an _honest_ assassin."

Their usual height difference became inverted with Zevran sitting on the ground. He wouldn't complain about the view, though, gladly tilting his head up to face her. "I know, right? How will they _ever_ make it without me? Tsc, such a great loss."

A few more seconds of staring, but this time Zevran could easily picture the gears turning inside her head. Darya had something on her mind, he just didn't know _what_ \- and the fact she was so hard to read made him feel frustrated and drawn to her in equal measure. She was likely debating whether to keep him alive, but then again, she would have killed him already if she really wanted to. Maybe it had something to do with trusting him? The suspense would soon drive him mad, and his breath caught in his chest when Darya decided to speak again.

"I'll see you tomorrow." A simple statement, one that made Zevran's shoulders drop a bit with relief. He nodded goodbye to her, offering one last smirk before she turned away.

Things would surely be interesting from now on.


	2. Weak spots

Her movements were quick but calculated, feet moving only enough to dodge and parry at the exact moment. Darya flashed an arrogant smile, hair slick with sweat, air rushing in and out of her lungs. She had been sparring with Alistair for an hour or so, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made it look like only a few minutes had passed.

She blocked his sword with one axe, and a metallic sound followed when she jolted the other one against the blade, pulling it away from him like a hook. The weapon fell to the ground with an empty thud.

Darya gave out a bored sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I told you not to go easy. You are not _really_ trying to hit me, are you?"

"Uh, did you forget about the part where you insisted to use _real_ weapons?" Alistair pointed at the sword for emphasis. "And that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance you might actually get hurt?”

“Oh, please.” Darya suppressed a mocking laugh, her stance becoming more relaxed as she rested one axe upon her shoulder. “Did the templars train you with wooden swords by any chance?”

“What? No!” She raised one questioning brow at his quick denial, and Alistair couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “I mean, only at the beginning-”

“Well that explains a lot,” she interrupted dryly.

He groaned. “Look, my point is that I don’t want to accidentally stab you. Or have your axe buried in my head. Nope, I’m totally fine as it is.”

“No need to be so dramatic, Chantry boy.” Darya rolled her eyes. “Besides, you wouldn’t manage to land a hit on me even if you wanted to.”

"Thank you so much for the compliment," Alistair muttered sarcastically. “Why don’t you… I don’t know, ask Zevran instead?” His gaze soon turned to the elf’s usual spot by the camp, glancing at him from a distance. “I bet he wouldn’t mind that."

The annoyance in his tone was crystal clear, but Darya ignored it as her thoughts went in an interesting direction. It would be nice to spar with someone else for a change - she had been practicing with Alistair long enough to read and predict most of his actions. Zevran, on the other hand...

"Well then." A new surge of determination made her tighten the grip on both axes. "This might be a genuinely good idea.”

Zevran sat near his tent, calmly sorting out what appeared to be small bottles of poison into his bag. He didn't need to look to know that the footsteps coming into his direction belonged to Darya. It wasn't exactly his plan to overhear their conversation, but he couldn't do anything about his elven hearing either. Still, Zevran waited until Darya stood right beside him, her shadow looming over his belongings.

He pretended to be surprised as he tilted his head up to face her. “Oh? Is there something you need, _bela_?”

"Yes. I happen to be looking for a sparring partner." She vaguely pointed one axe towards Alistair. "Chantry boy there would like to learn a few things."

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" Alistair protested from afar.

"Hmm. I'm intrigued." Zevran leaned back a little, a spark of curiosity shining in his eyes. "If I might ask, is there a particular reason why you want to spar with me? There are plenty of candidates in this camp after all." Then his lips curved into a smirk, as if he had just realized something. “Is it because I’m ‘handsome’, as you like to call?”

Darya’s scoff was louder than expected. That was more of a side benefit, actually, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing either way. “Don’t push your luck, assassin. We haven’t sparred yet - let’s just say I’m curious.”

“Whatever you say, my dear warden.” Zevran said nonchalantly as he stood up, proceeding to pick up his daggers. He followed Darya’s steps to an open space between the tents and the edge of the camp. “Shall we compete for points then?”

“Do as you like.” She rolled her shoulders in preparation before positioning herself at a reasonable distance from him. Then she drew her axes once more, an arrogant smile lighting her features with determination. “Just don’t expect to win.”

Zevran mirrored her expression, but Darya stepped forward before he had any chance to reply. She wanted to surprise him with a quick attack, yet Zevran managed to parry the blow, daggers crossed to lessen the impact. She was forced a few steps back to avoid the swift swing of his blades. His speed was far greater than expected, and the contrast between his fighting style and his laidback attitude was like day and night.

Zevran _was_ , after all, fighting to win.

A flurry of metallic sounds followed, axes and daggers relentlessly colliding with one another. It was almost like performing a dance, their rhythm oddly in sync as they moved. It was hard to pay attention to his footwork _and_ parry when she had so little time to act. Turns out Darya was not as fast as him - but she was definitely stronger. She ducked to the side and used the momentum to hit the back of his legs. The impact caused Zevran to lose his balance, daggers slipping away from his hands when he fell.

Darya gave a satisfied smile. “One point for me."

Zevran chuckled before easing himself up again. “I must admit that this was not what I had in mind when I pictured you pushing me to the ground.”

“Keep distracting yourself and this will be over real soon, handsome.”

Both of them stepped back, using a small moment to catch their breaths before starting all over again.

Sparring with Zevran was unlike anything she had ever done. Darya felt a different jolt of adrenaline course through her blood each time he managed to surprise her. She was used to restrain herself while practicing, measuring her strength and abilities in order not to hurt her partners too much. Truth be told, it was no easy task to find someone as skilled as herself. But this, him- Darya couldn’t remember the last time she felt so _free_ . For once she didn’t need to worry, instead only focusing on proper combat. Zevran offered her some kind of challenge, one she had desperately missed for so long without even realizing. It was something so new and refreshing but also _powerful,_ like an electrical storm rushing through her veins. 

The camp soon faded into the distance. They sparred for a long while until the back of her neck became damp with sweat, several strands of hair escaping from her loose ponytail. Darya's shirt clung to her skin, the grip on her axes considerably weaker than before. Zevran appeared to be in a similar situation, chest heaving up and down as he breathed. Darya searched for a weak spot in his stance. There was an opening at his left side, she realized, but it took only a second before he closed the gap between them. A dagger attempted to hit her right side and Darya easily defended it – only to realize it was a blow meant for distraction.

And soon she was lying on the ground with Zevran hovering on top of her.

He let out a breathless chuckle, one hand pinned to the ground to keep his balance, the other holding a dagger a few inches from Darya's chin. "It appears luck is on my side today, no?"

She stared at him, finding herself to be completely speechless. It was careless and stupid of her to let that happen, yet her frustrations were soon forgotten when Darya realized how _close_ he was. Zevran seemed to notice it as well, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths. He unconsciously lowered the dagger to take in the sight of Darya lying beneath him. Her lips were slightly open as she panted, face flushed by the adrenaline, strands of golden hair sticking to her sweaty skin. She was gorgeous even like that, and Zevran resisted the urge to trace her jaw with his fingers.

That is, until Darya pulled him down for a kiss.

She curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, a soft sigh leaving her lips when Zevran kissed her back just as fiercely. She opened her mouth to meet his tongue, molten desire making her heart thump with the taste of him. Demanding hands urged Zevran even closer, and Darya felt his smirk against her lips. He allowed his body to relax more, but only enough to press her down a bit.

As soon as Zevran had his guard down, Darya took the chance to flip them over. 

A smug smile crossed her lips when she had him pinned down, knees firmly placed on either side of his ribs and hands trapping his wrists above his head. More importantly, the last dagger was gone from his grip.

"To be honest, I didn't think you would fall for that. It’s the oldest trick in the book," Darya scoffed. "But I told you it wasn’t going to lose."

Zevran didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying the whole situation. "You are as cruel as you are beautiful, my dear.” He glanced up to indicate his wrists and then back at her. “Still - if you wanted to bound me, all you needed to do was ask.”

She chuckled in response - except this time it felt genuine. 

Zevran became used to the fact that Darya wasn’t spontaneous about her feelings. She often wore a smug smile, one that worked wonderfully to deceive most people. It didn’t take him long to realize that her smiles never reached her eyes. Deep down they were just invisible walls, cold and hard to see through. Zevran only did because he could relate to that. He, too, had been building up walls ever since he was a child.

And so her laugh came out as a surprise. It was brief, yet warm enough to light up her whole face. For only a moment there were no signs of sarcasm, just the real her, bright and welcoming as the sun. For only a moment her gaze softened and he could see how beautiful she truly were.

But Darya soon snapped back to reality. She leaned back a little, a small frown the only visible sign of her confusion. She continued as if nothing had happened, though her voice became undeniably harsher.

“In your dreams, handsome.” There was an uncertain feeling to her look that she just couldn’t shake off. Darya soon stood up, ignoring the curiosity in Zevran’s gaze. “We’re done for today.”

Under normal circumstances he would have continued to tease, but he knew it was not the right moment to do that. Not anymore at least. Zevran simply nodded then, proceeding to get on his feet as well. “As you say."

Then she walked away, her conflicting thoughts being the only company she had for a while. To think that she _actually_ had fun with Zevran... it was odd. She didn't plan any of that. It simply happened, and Darya hated to deal with things that were beyond her control. There was something about him that she couldn't place yet - something different. Whether it was good or not, only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea to include Alistair not only because I enjoy his dynamic with Darya but also because I don't ever write him. Anyway, I think it was a nice little addition :")  
> And in case anyone's wondering, that was indeed the first kiss between Darya and Zev.  
> (also watch me as I post this chapter literally 4 days behind the schedule)


	3. First times

A couple weeks had passed after that kiss.

As the search for the treaties went on, Darya decided it wouldn't do any harm to continue flirting with Zevran. It was nothing but a distraction, something to bring her a little bit of fun at the end of the day. Their conversations also became more frequent, and soon the suspicions she had about him slowly began to fade with each passing day. Not that she trusted him completely, but it was certainly better than what they had in the beginning.

A large bonfire burned at the center of the Dalish camp, the scent of cooked meat inviting everyone for dinner. Darya leaned over a tree as she watched the elves at a distance. Some prepared the cooking while others simply gathered around the fire to drink and chat. Among them were most of her companions, who seemed to be at ease while chatting with each other or with the local elves. Her gaze trailed over Alistair and Leliana until it finally stopped at Zevran.

He was surrounded by a small group of elves who seemed overly enthusiastic to talk with him. Darya couldn't help but frown once she noticed the ladies throwing suggestive glances and sweet smiles at him. Of course they would do that. It was a pathetic thing to see, and even more pathetic was the way Zevran smiled at them. Darya resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she glared at the scene. Her tea tasted a lot more bitter than expected when she took a sip from it.

"Tis an intriguing sight." Morrigan approached her from the shadows. "To see you like this."

Darya didn't bother looking at her, the frown still present on her face. "Enlighten me," she answered sarcastically.

"Surely you don't need me to state the obvious." Morrigan crossed her arms before glancing at Zevran. "I wonder why you're jealous of him."

Darya scoffed, almost spitting out her tea while doing so. That very thought was beyond absurd. "I don't do jealous, Morrigan."

But the witch didn’t appear to be convinced - in fact, she looked a bit amused. "Oh? Then I suppose the staring comes from an entirely different reason?"

Darya took another sip of her drink, this time turning her head to face Morrigan with a questioning look. "And why, pray tell, are you suddenly interested about that?"

"I am merely curious. You two have grown close after all," Morrigan stated.

"Whatever it is that we have, it's only a momentary diversion and nothing more." Darya said in a matter of fact tone. “It would take a fool to expect anything else.”

And yet she couldn’t help the tightening in her throat, nor the way her jaw clenched ever so slightly while those women flirted with Zevran. A strange feeling of unease and irritation coiled around her like a snake. Was she truly jealous? No one had ever made her feel that way, the realization of it only making her angrier.

She shook the thought away and drank the remaining tea, not sure whether the hot liquid helped to calm her nerves at all.

\---

"I have something for you," Darya said.

Zevran was sitting close to his tent when she approached him - she had waited until he was completely alone to do so. He looked up to meet her eyes and flashed a playful smile. "Oh? Is it a naughty gift? I would do well with a pair of cuffs, let me tell you."

“Tempting, but that’s a thought for another time.” She sat next to him on the ground to open her small leather bag. “I’m giving you something actually useful now.”

Zevran's expression quickly changed to a confused one when he received a pair of gloves. "You're.. giving me gloves?" He asked, clearly expecting anything else but _that_. "What for?"

Darya raised one brow. "Now that's gratitude for you," she said with a sharp tone. "I've noticed your gloves are worn out, so a new pair would be of use. Simple as that." she dismissed.

Zevran shook off his initial surprise with a wave of his head. "Ah. I'm not complaining about it, my dear. It's just..." He glanced at the gloves for a moment, tracing his thumbs over the fine material. It was good equipment - of that he had no doubt - but the small, intricate patterns that stretched along the leather looked oddly familiar. Soon, a small frown settled in his features. "Are these Dalish?"

"Yes. I took the opportunity to replace some of our equipment while we’re here. These elves do seem to make decent craftsmanship after all," Darya answered indifferently. She leaned back a little, casually placing her hands behind her back as she took in the sight of the camp. A small moment of silence went by. When she spoke again, her voice was more serious than expected. "You had similar gloves once, didn’t you? From your mother.”

The fact that she remembered about his mother was unexpected to say the least, as well as the lack of sarcasm in her voice. But what caused Zevran to go speechless for a second was realizing that Darya wasn’t just replacing his equipment - she was giving him a gift. An _actual_ gift to make up for something that he lost long ago. Something that he told her before but didn’t expect her to care at all.

"Yes." Zevran proceeded to put on the gloves, one at a time, and Darya didn't fail to notice a small bit of hesitation behind his gesture. He also seemed to handle them more carefully than necessary, almost as if afraid to break something precious. "The leather was less thick and it had more embroidery, but these are very close. And quite handsome.”

“Of course they are. I’m not one to hand over crappy gifts.” Darya bragged, that usual, smug smirk of hers returning to her face. "You're welcome, by the way."

Only then Zevran realized that he was yet to thank her. He let out a weak chuckle. "Perhaps I am a bit surprised," he admitted. "The thing is, I appreciate that you even thought of me.” She watched his earthy brown eyes glance at the gloves and then back at her. He sounded genuinely grateful, and there was something about his look that made her throat felt dry. “No one has simply given me a gift before. Thank you.”

Darya wasn’t sure of what to say. Back at Orzammar, she had been so used to give and receive gifts that she never really paid much attention to their possible meaning. After all, gifts - like most things - could be easily bought and meant nothing but a pretty display of power. Nobles just _loved_ to trade expensive gifts at ceremonies, a silent competition to know who had the highest status. In the end they were all meaningless objects, no matter how fancy or impressive they might have looked.

And so the amount of gratitude in Zevran’s tone left her confused. Gifts weren’t supposed to be special in her experience, but then again, Darya was the one that mentioned his mother in the first place. She had given him a meaningful gift without even realizing it. No such thing had ever happened before - which meant that could only be a coincidence.

And so she decided to ignore that thought, at least for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I'm way too late to the Zevwarden week now but I'll still finish this fic with the prompts I chose for each day. Thank you for reading!


	4. Opening up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the rating to Mature for implied sex, nothing explicit though.

Denerim's marketplace was just the same as he remembered. Loud chattering, a multitude of wares, insufferable merchants trying to approach people with the most tempting offers. Zevran enjoyed visiting such places, for they were often a valuable way to earn information if one knew where to look - which he usually did. Observing people and discovering valuable rumors were all but a part of his many skills - and yet Zevran wasn't doing any of that this time. Not when he had far more interesting things to observe.

His gaze kept drifting towards Darya. Watching her stroll through Denerim for the first time was amusing to say the least. Zevran noticed her constant little frown, a silent sign of annoyance that wouldn't leave her face no matter what. He listened to her exhasperated sighs whenever someone bumped into them, to the curses that she muttered under her breath. Zevran quickly discovered two things: one, that she already hated the marketplace; and two, that she had no idea where to go. Not that Darya would ever admit to the latter.

"Um, haven't we gone this way before?" Alistair asked, pointing his thumb backwards. "That merchant over there seems awfully familiar to me."

"Well it would help if there were fewer humans standing in my way," Darya answered bitterly. "I can't exactly see the way ahead with all these people running around like nugs." She scoffed, not bothering to admit that she was just as lost as them. "It's pathetic."

Morrigan seemed to agree with her to a certain extent. "Tis best we choose another way. Wandering aimlessly will be of no use to discover that priest's whereabouts."

"May I suggest something?" Zevran took the chance to interfere as well. He approached Darya with a cheerful expression, not minding the fuming anger held inside her gaze. He took her silence as an yes, though, so he continued. "How about we look for a tavern? I know there's one nearby, and there's a good chance we'll find something about our friend Genitivi there."

"Really?" Alistair gave him a skeptical look. "You could have said that an _hour_ ago!"

Zevran simply smiled at him. "Perhaps, but it seems to me I am not the one in charge." His gaze fell on Darya once more. "That is up for our warden to decide."

Darya rolled her eyes. "Fine then. Show us the way."

And so Zevran did, at least for some time.

There was a dwarf announcing his wares right at the corner of the street. Zevran would have easily ignored him if not for Darya's reaction. Her world stopped as soon as she laid eyes on that man, her lips opening for a second before closing again. Zevran had never seen her speechless until that very moment, her body petrified as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Gorim,” Darya managed to say, his name tasting like ashes in her mouth. "You're here."

“My lady, is that- is that really you?” The dwarf stammered, looking somewhere in between shocked and relieved. It seemed like neither of them had anticipated that sort of reunion. "I knew you were alive, I never doubted it!" Gorim said with a small, genuine smile - one that Darya was far from reciprocating. It made the air around them feel heavy with tension.

"Do you... know each other?" Alistair asked, suddenly aware of the awkward situation between the two.

"That is truly perceptive of you, Alistair." Morrigan said dryly.

Darya swallowed before turning to glance at her companions. "Let me have a word with him."

"As you say," Zevran said before guiding Alistair and Morrigan to the opposite way. "We'll be waiting over there."

Darya waited for them to step away before she faced Gorim once more, this time approaching him so that they could have a proper conversation.

"Tell me what you are doing here," she demanded with a lower tone. Her brown eyes pierced through him as if searching for answers. A feeling of apprehension creeped up her spine when she glanced at his wares, her jaw becoming suddenly tightened in response. "You are no merchant. Why are you selling these?"

Gorim couldn't help his shoulders from dropping slightly in defeat - something that made Darya even more tense for what he was about to say.

"You know I was exiled to the surface, my lady. A lot of things changed since then," he began. "Before I left for the surface, king Endrin sent for me. It was almost more than I could endure, seeing him so… as if he were long dead." Gorim glanced down as he remembered the scene, his voice heavy with sorrow. "He couldn't rise from the bed and the room stank of decay."

Darya pursed her lips as she tried to swallow the anxiousness down her throat. She couldn't bring herself to imagine her father like that, and the thought of it caused her heart to clench inside her chest. She took a step closer after noticing his hesitation, unwilling to move away until she had all the answers. "What did he say?"

"He wanted you to have this shield and this letter." Gorim handed both over to Darya as he spoke. "He told me to find you… that no one else deserved this. If it were possible for a man to die of regret, I think king Endrin did." 

So her father was dead.

She glanced at the shield's heraldry only to recognize the Aeducan symbol - it was the same shield she had retrieved from the Deep Roads before her exile. Oddly enough, the shield appeared to be heavier this time, unlike the first time she held it. The cold metal sent chills down her spine and she held the letter with her other hand, her tight grip causing the paper to crumble.

"You still haven't answered my question about why you're here," she demanded.

"This might be hard to believe but - I have a new life now, my lady. I'm happier than I could have imagined," he added. "I married into a surface family, my wife is lovely and we're expecting our firstborn before the spring-"

His words felt like a punch to the gut.

" _Excuse_ me?" Darya interrupted him as if she had been terribly offended. "So I disappear for a couple months and the first thing you do is marry a girl?" She scoffed, feeling the blood rush inside her veins. "Did you even _attempt_ to search for me? Obviously not, seeing that you were too busy getting the bitch pregnant!"

"My lady, I had no way of knowing-"

" _Spare me the excuses_ ," Darya cut him off through gritted teeth. The last thing that she wanted to hear were his empty words. Her voice dripped with venom when she spoke again, even lower this time. " _So much_ for believing that I was alive."

Betrayal struck her once again. First her brother and now Gorim, the man who was supposed to be her second - the one who made an _oath_ to be loyal for as long as he lived. Few people were able to earn her trust, and still each and every one of them seemed prone to stab her in the back at some point. There was a glimpse of regret in Gorim’s eyes when he looked at her.

"I'm sorry, my lady." Gorim tried to continue. "If only--"

"Say no more." Darya gripped the shield harder in an attempt to still her anger. “I hope you enjoy your new life while it lasts."

She didn’t wait for an answer - she didn’t want to. 

With the shield strapped to her back, Darya quickly returned to her companions. "We're done searching for Genitivi today," she told them as indifferently as she could. Then her gaze moved towards Zevran. "Take us to that tavern."

Zevran recognized some kind of emptiness deep inside her eyes, something distant and cold - but more importantly, hurt. Her muscles were tense once again, and despite the assertive tone of her voice, he noticed that her fists were tightly clenched at her sides. Darya didn't need to say anything else for him to understand that she just wanted to get out of there.

He simply nodded before showing the way.

Fortunately the tavern wasn't far from the marketplace and the change of ambiance helped to ease the silence away. It wasn't long before Alistair and Morrigan resumed their usual bickering. Zevran joined the conversation shortly after, wearing one of his customary smirks as they chatted during dinner. Still, he couldn't help glancing at Darya every now and then, something that she quickly noticed despite his subtle behavior.

She didn't speak a word about it, at least not until Morrigan and Alistair retired to their rooms. Darya stared at Zevran as soon as they were left alone, finally deciding to stop drinking her wine. She placed the half empty bottle on the table.

"You heard it all, didn't you? Back at the marketplace." Darya asked in a straightforward manner, resting her cheek against her palm.

Of course she would know. "I did," Zevran agreed. It would be no use denying that. "It wasn't my intention to eavesdrop, however."

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Even I know better than to interfere in a personal matter of yours, _bela_.” Zevran said before leaning back against his chair. He didn’t seem to mind her inquisitive tone, though. “But if you wish to talk, then I’m all ears.”

“ _Talk_?” Darya repeated, scoffing at the thought like it was some sort of joke. “You know, handsome, there’s no need to play nice with me just because my father died. I’m capable of dealing with that on my own.”

He was not surprised to hear such an overly defensive answer. "I have no doubts," Zevran agreed. "All I'm saying is that if you find yourself in need of some company, feel free to knock at my door and I shall answer. Simple, no?"

Darya couldn't stop the sarcasm from dripping off her words. "And which kind of company would be that, I wonder?"

Zevran rested his face on his hand, reflections of the inn's fireplace dancing at the corner of his eyes. "That's entirely up for you to decide, my dear."

Darya pursed her lips as she tried to think of an answer. Her first instinct was to ask why he was doing all of this. She knew better than to think he didn't have any ulterior motives to act that way. It would be foolish to believe that he genuinely wanted to help. 

But she was too tired to linger on that, at least for the moment.

"We'll see about that," she finally said before standing up. Darya grabbed her wine bottle and gave Zevran one last look. "Goodnight."

He watched her go with curiosity, as if trying to guess what was on her mind. Darya was a difficult person to read, always masking her emotions in one way or another. 

Once she was out of his sight, Zevran placed his thoughts aside and headed towards his own room.

\-----

There wasn't much to do in that cheap room besides staring at the ceiling, his body sprawled on the mattress as he tried to distract himself to sleep. Yet Zevran couldn't help but listen to the multitude of noises around him – the distant chatter of people at the tavern, the sound of dogs barking in the streets and even the cries of crickets outside. He had grown used to registering every little sound so that he could be prepared for anything. It was a skill that ultimately became second nature to him.

Which is why his gaze drifted towards the door as soon as he heard footsteps coming from the corridor.

Zevran sat on his mattress, ears slightly twitching as he paid attention to the movement outside. He was soon able to spot the silhouette of two feet standing at the front of his room.

Darya was just about to knock when Zevran opened the door. She stopped, hand still hovering mid-air for a second, and then deep brown eyes captured his gaze.

She wore a plain white nightgown that was loose for the most part, and yet tight enough to highlight the curves of her waist and the fullness of her breasts behind the fabric. It was a piece made for comfort, with long sleeves and a skirt that reached her knees, but Darya still managed to look stunning in it. What caught Zevran's gaze, however, was her loose hair. He was so used to see it tied up that he often imagined how she would look with her hair down. He found himself unable to glance away from the golden waves cascading down her shoulders, the sight equal parts alluring and surprising.

"Still awake, I see." Darya said, silently glancing at Zevran's bare torso before looking back at his face. "Are you still up on that offer?"

If not for her awfully serious tone, Zevran would have greeted her with an innuendo or something equally suggestive. He offered her a charming smile instead. "You, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes." He moved aside so that she could enter his room. "Come in, yes?"

Darya let out a tired sigh as soon as she walked inside. "As much as I hate to admit it, you were right." She turned to face him, visibly struggling to say the words out loud. "I... could use some company," she admitted bitterly. "I wish to talk."

Zevran closed the door. "Very well. I'm listening."

Darya sat on the edge of his bed, the old mattress creaking a bit in response. She looked lost in her thoughts while staring at the floor. "Everytime I close my eyes, all I can see is my father." She scoffed at herself. "Ironic, considering that I barely thought about him after my exile."

Zevran silently moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed, making sure to keep a comfortable distance between them. Darya heard the familiar creak once again, fully aware of the fact that Zevran was watching her. She kept her hands on her lap, soon finding the silence to be overwhelming – though not as much as Zevran's attention.

He was willing to listen, and Darya wasn't used to that. She swallowed quietly.

"I shouldn't be whining about this to you." She stated at last, suddenly feeling exposed. Weak.

"Why not?" Zevran asked, though he already had a guess.

"Because," Darya pinched the bridge of her nose, "you don't have anything to do with my problems."

"Perhaps not," Zevran shrugged, "but it doesn't mean that I cannot listen."

Darya reluctantly stared back at him. She found warmth in his gaze and honesty in his words, and for some reason her heart clenched inside her chest.

"Well then." She tucked some hair behind her ear, shifting her position to have a better look at him. "You know some things about my brothers, but I haven't told you about Gorim yet. The man we met at the market," she added.

Zevran gave her an affirmative nod. He crossed his legs once she started talking, resting his elbows on his knees. "You two seemed to have quite a history together, yes?"

Darya huffed a silent laugh. "That would be an understatement. I know him ever since I was a child." Her tone was struck by seriousness once more. "To put it simply, Gorim was my Second. We have fought together for many years until I was exiled. Or we, for that matter." She corrected. "Before we left, he told me that we would meet again in Denerim. You know what happened next."

Darya rolled her eyes, a feeling of bitterness boiling inside her chest. She was a fool to believe that everything would go back to the way it was. "I shouldn't have trusted him to keep that promise," she muttered.

"Was he close to your father?" Zevran asked.

"In a way, yes. Gorim's father was King Endrin's Second before we were born," Darya explained before shutting her eyes for a moment. When she exhaled, Zevran noticed a slight shakiness to her breath. "I thought I would live to see the old man again. I had sworn to… make him proud of me once more."

Darya lowered her head. Her hands were on her knees, tightened into fists around the fabric of her nightgown.

"But none of that matters now. He's gone, as well as Gorim." Darya took a deep breath, still attempting to keep her composure. "I suppose I'll have to visit his grave once we're back in Orzammar."

She glanced down for a moment, taking in the silence of the room. Strange as it was, saying some things out loud really helped to lessen the weight over her shoulders. Still, Darya soon went back to the thoughts that kept buzzing at the corners of her mind.

She looked at Zevran once again, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go on," he nodded.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

"I simply wanted to see if you were alright.” There was something in his tone that made her believe in his words. “There are many ways to deal with loss, you see, and people tend to choose the worst ones when they're alone."

Darya chuckled, sarcasm edging at her words. “Wonderful. You're pitying me." She collected her hands together, resting them on her lap as she straightened her back. She moved her feet to the floor, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I don't suppose I could blame you after everything you just witnessed."

Darya stared at her hands in silence, hair falling at the sides of her face. The golden strands blocked Zevran from seeing her expression, and yet he was able to hear her strangled heartbeat and her labored breath. She bit her lower lip, doing her best not to break down in front of him.

Even after everything, Zevran noticed, she still refused to look weak. A small part of him wondered how many times she had suffered like that in the past – how many times was she forced to hide her feelings for the sake of appearances. To cry on her own, alone at night.

The mattress barely creaked when Zevran brought his feet to the floor as well. "I think you are fierce," he began, "and stunning. Strong, no doubt about that. Dangerous, and yet exciting."

Darya listened to his words in silence, her body still as a statue.

"I think you are beautiful," Zevran continued, "and alluring. Untamable and beautifully unpredictable, just like the sea itself." Zevran brought a hand to her face, fingers ghosting against the side of her cheek ever so gently. He made sure to move slowly so that she could back away if she wanted to - but she didn’t.

Zevran carefully tucked the loose strands behind Darya’s ear to reveal her whole face. Once their gazes locked together, Zevran caressed her skin with his thumb, his touch alone sending sparks of electricity through her body. "Does that sound like pity to you, Darya?"

Hearing Zevran softly whisper her name made her breath hitch. His accent made it sound like a confession, like a passionate secret that no one else was meant to hear. His eyes were warm and inviting like liquid honey, tempting as a room full of riches. Darya found herself unable to look away from them - from _him_. She let out a breathless chuckle, her face lighting up a little bit. "It sounds like you want to seduce me," she stated.

Zevran gently lifted her chin with his hand, lips curving into a teasing smile. “Only if you _wish_ to be seduced, my dear.”

Darya couldn’t help but smirk back at him, slowly but assuredly. She closed her fingers around Zevran's wrist, holding it mid-air while admiring him for a moment. She observed the single tattoo marking his sharp cheekbones and the similar patterns inked across his shirtless body. His hair almost had an ethereal glow under the moonlight, beautiful unlike anything she had ever seen.

She turned her head to kiss the inside of his palm, eyes never leaving his own. "In that case, you are certainly welcome to try..." Her smirk got wider before she continued, her voice close to a whisper. " _Zevran_."

She could have sworn that Zevran went speechless for a second, his reaction only making her smile more in victory - but soon his lips were pressed against hers and nothing else mattered.

Darya eagerly parted her mouth to allow his tongue inside, his taste similar to liquor and cinnamon, sweet and utterly intoxicating. Soon she realized that she was straddling him, her mind struggling to accompany the rushing impulses of her body. His hands were everywhere, sliding down and up her back, tugging at her hair, grabbing her thighs - too much and not enough. Darya arched her back when his lips found her jaw and then her neck, every touch and every kiss making her burn with desire. She trailed her hands over the taut muscles of his back before running her nails against his skin.

They were like flames crashing against one another, a wildfire built on hunger and want - and so they burned together until the very last moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been literal months since the last update and I apologize for that. This chapter took me a lot of time to write because there was always something that bugged me in some way (seriously, I rewrote this like 4 times at least). It was also the longest chapter so far because I had to include Darya reuniting with Gorim for the sake of angst. I wanted to show her struggle against the feeling of being vulnerable and letting someone else see it. She's not used to expose her real feelings, so opening up was a difficult task. That's part of the reason why she decided to have sex with Zevran - she did that not only to distract her mind from the situation but also because sex is way easier to deal with than Feelings™ in her opinion.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment or say hi to me on Tumblr if you want! <3


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